The Sour Stench Of Childhood
When he asked about my childhood
I knew not where to start.
The scents began to flood my head
while strangling my heart.
My mind has instant recall
on those certain horrid scents.
Like overflowing ashtrays
in a car with blowing vents.
The smell of all night parties
mixed with the scent of a strangers love.
The sour stench of sweat and tears
it's hard to rise above.
The pungent smell of beer breath
in a young girls sleeping face.
The memories of childhood
are not so easily erased.
Some things are burnt in memory
no matter how we fight.
He quietly put a scented candle
on the table in plain sight
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Comments about this poem (The Sour Stench Of Childhood by Mary Nagy )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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